red solo cup

”We’ll see you on Sunday. If you’ve got rid of the hangover by then.”

Frank scoffed at the jab, the sound half drowned out by a burst of noise at the other end. Music started to pound louder, the bass reverberating enough even down the line that Theo held the phone an inch away from his ear. ”Easy. Some of us are experts at this. See you Sunday. Love you, man.” Frank was obviously far enough into his night to be feeling a little sappy.

”Love you too. Make sure Kit gets you home in one piece.” There was another scoff, cut short as Frank ended the call.

Theo set his phone down beside him on the couch. He tipped his head against its back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling. Maybe they were all a little sappier these days, the pregnancy-turned-new-born-baby hormones working its way through the family to finish off what had been started with the hunter more than seventeen years ago. The scars, even the invisible ones, changed you, left you holding onto your family a little tighter, fearing a little more, especially when the thing that had left some of them came to visit.

He swallowed hard, frowning faintly as he glanced at the clock. Hazel still had some time before her curfew. She’d gone to the Grill for food with friends. Somewhere public and busy – not that it guaranteed she’d be safe. A minute’s inattention was all it took for a life to be snuffed out and for his daughter to be forced to announce their death. It was a heavy burden, one that had cracked his little girl that first time, but Hazel seemed to have stepped up with it, shouldering it with a bravery he was so proud of. She’d done the same with her little brother. There might’ve been a sixteen year gap between them, but it didn’t matter. Theo was sure Bo and Hazel would end up as close as he and Frank – sixteen years, sixteen minutes, no real difference. When Bo needed his big sister Hazel would be right there, fierce and comforting all in one, just like her momma.

Well shit, now he really was getting sentimental. All off of one drunken ‘love you man’. Theo huffed out a breath, rubbing his knuckles under his nose like it’d stave off a little teariness. He drew his knees up, slippered feet propped on the edge of the coffee table instead of sprawled across it. When had he become a sappy old man? Some days it felt like yesterday, like he could still feel Hazel’s weight in his arms as he rocked her down here, leaving Freyja to sleep just a little longer before their little bundle of joy woke her up with more shrieking demands for a midnight snack or a diaper change – her brother really had taken after her there. It had taken almost twenty years to get there, the old man part sinking in one step at a time: the slippers, the grey in his beard, the wondering how early he could talk his wife into bed on a Friday night. Given that Bo had been fussy all evening, finally producing a blow out bad enough in his cot that Freyja was still up there, trying to get Bo back to sleep. Ten wasn’t too early right? Especially not if they weren’t sleeping right away, he couldn’t, not until he heard Hazel come home at least.

Freckles clattered down the stairs, padding into the room with a look like he was done with whatever was happening upstairs. Theo popped out a hand, ran it down the dogs back as he passed. ”You and me both, buddy. It’s a good thing they grow out of that.” What seemed to be the worst problem in the world had a way of morphing though. What seemed life altering today was just a slightly blurred memory tomorrow – just like Frank’s night at the club was gonna be. Maybe he’d be able to talk Frank into babysitting tomorrow night, or they could see how Hazel could handle her little brother on her own for a few hours. He’d talk Freyja into dinner, maybe at Di Marco’s. They’d be calling all night to check they were alright, and would probably be passed out before 10, sinking down heavy on the couch the way Freckles did next to his brother.

The dog’s head shot back up as the door opened, his reaction catching Theo’s attention as much as the quiet click that came as it was closed. Another glance at the clock. Ten minutes until Hazel’s curfew, close, but on the right side of it so he wouldn’t have to give the lecture that’d be far more painful to him than Hazel. Twisting on the sofa, Theo tried to look over the back of it for his daughter. ”Hey Hazelnut. Your mom’s…” The announcement was cut off with a crash that had him wincing, eyes snapping straight to the baby monitor at the table that’d heralded that overfilling of Bo’s diaper twenty minutes before. Theo froze, expecting either Bo’s shrieks or Freyja’s. He breathed slow, as quietly as he could as though that would somehow stop the baby from hollering.

Nothing. Phew. Theo let out a relieved breath, unfolding from the couch. The umbrella thing had been in the same spot for sixteen years, some yard sale in Frank’s neighbourhood contributing to the new house. By now it should’ve been one of things mapped out in his daughter’s head the same way it was his, easy to avoid in the dark, but apparently not so much when you were … huh. ”Those damned umbrella thingies,” he said with a cluck of his tongue, bending in the hall to scoop up what Hazel was failing to. ”Was it an ambush or self-preservation?” What it actually was was a bad dad joke. He dipped his head as he dropped one of those big golf umbrellas back in, trying to meet Hazel’s eye with an appropriately narrow eyed glare. ”You have a good night at the Grill? I guess if Abi dropped you off she’s gonna be late for her curfew.” God he hoped not. The last accident had been bad enough to scare both girls, enough he’d hoped that they’d never do anything that impaired their driving again.

Tagged: HAZEL DAMASCA * Word Count: 1061

’Sssh, we’re gonna wake her up.’

In the dim light of the hallway upstairs, he’d pressed his finger against Freyja’s lips, then had settled his mouth there when the noise had continued. Alright, maybe he’d had a little to do with that, but those moments were rare when you had a baby in the house. You were too tired, too occupied racing after her the minute she’d found her balance and had turned into Hurricane Hazelnut. Theo had eased them into the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as possible behind them. Still, until he’d settled, his arms around Freyja, sleep finally dragging at his still leaden limbs an hour later, his ears had strained for some sound from Hazel’s room. A whimper of protest, that precursor to the cry that would have both of her parents scrambling up to soothe her – unless one of them fell on their sword for the other.

As the years had passed it had been less about avoiding waking Hazel up and more about avoiding being woken up by her. Kids didn’t respect the idea of eight hours a night. There were the tiny padding footsteps at dawn, the suddenly blaring sound of Saturday morning cartoons screeching through the house (and only one of them who could sleep through it since he got to pluck out his hearing aids and ended up waking up to his wife’s ire instead). Nightmares that sent their daughter squirming into their bed. He couldn’t exactly blame the dogs on Hazel too but there’d been plenty of crack of dawn trudges down to the back door to let them out into the garden. You learned how to juggle it, how to avoid it all when you could. Hazel certainly hadn’t picked up those tricks from her parents yet.

When she’d been a toddler it had almost been a party trick to be able to sweep her up and tell that a diaper change was necessary from a single sniff. Theo suspected that if he stepped a little closer and inhaled, he’d catch the whiff of liquor instead of digested carrot puree. With her crack mom senses on high alert from Bo’s fresh arrival, Freyja would undoubtedly sense it in the air the moment she came back down. Green eyes narrowing, fixing on him first before she considered that Hazel would’ve gone creeping past the rules they hadn’t exactly nailed to her bedroom door in regards to all of this yet.

Knowing that both of them would likely get a slap on the wrist for this, Theo watched with some amusement as the cogs in Hazel’s brain seemed to work at a snail’s speed – missing his joke entirely, fixing finally on Abi’s name like it was the one thing in that mess of words she could get a grip on. Dark brows hitched, his lips curled faintly. ”I’m sure he’s just gonna be glad that she’s getting home in one piece.” Relief rushed through him that they hadn’t leapt straight into getting Hazel a car of her own. Their kid was smart, she wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel like this, but the opportunity would’ve been there and it would’ve been terrifying. ”I guess their milkshakes have gotten more potent since we were the last time. Maybe I oughta take your mom tomorrow … she could do with a little fun.” Although still breastfeeding wouldn’t allow it for a while.

When Hazel had been a baby he’d hovered behind her right here in the hall, his hands hovering in the air on either side of her as she’d reeled down the middle of it, weaving from side to side, like she was just as drunk as she was now. Every time her little legs would give out he was right there, catching her before she bounced her head off of the floor or the wall, all those surfaces that look like death traps to parents. Theo did the same now, tucking the last umbrella back in as Hazel ponderously made her way past him. Was he gonna have to carry her up to bed the way he had done when she was still tiny enough to carry her without wrecking his back? Maybe. Although that’d be another instant red flag for her mom to spot.

He followed her into the kitchen, debating the merits of coffee for a little sobering, or just pouring enough water in her to flush out whatever it was she’d drunk while she wasn’t at the Grill. ”I think you might need a little more than that,” he cautioned. ”Hey, Hazelnut, your mom’s trying to get Bo to sleep. How about you let me get that before she storms down here and incinerates both of us…” Theo winced, caging his fingers around Hazel’s on the glass to extract it without smashing all the others. His shoulders stayed tight until it was down on the counter top. No thundering feet on the stairs, still no crying. Time had to be running out though.

Taking the glass, Theo filled it up for his daughter, setting it down on the table a moment later with the pack of Tylenol next to it. ”You’re taking two of those right before you go to sleep. They might make the morning a little less painful.” If her mom hadn’t found out by then, maybe Hazel would get off at least close to scot free. He drew a chair out for her, nodding Hazel into it before her balance gave out all together and she was landing on her ass on the floor like her little brother would be on a regularly basis soon. ”Where were you tonight, Haze? I know it wasn’t the Grill, because they wouldn’t risk their liquor license by giving a seventeen year old alcohol.” That left someone’s house, or somewhere outside. Likely older kids, the sort who wouldn’t have thought twice about letting a teenager roll home like this. Danger was just something that happened in horror movies when you were that age.

Tagged: HAZEL DAMASCA * Word Count: 1005

When babies were born everybody who came to see them started dividing up each feature – thank God she got her mom’s nose – no offence. It was a natural instinct, and honestly, he hadn’t taken any sort of offence to seeing so much of the woman he’d loved from their first date in their little girl. Hazel was her mother’s daughter in so many ways, her little shadow, her mirror image, except for where he would’ve wished hardest that Hazel was just like her mom. Maybe her inability to lie to the two of them had definitely come from him – he crumbled faster with his wife than he had with anybody else – but her ability to see through his rambling jokes (especially of the dad kind) was straight from Freyja and tonight that ability was failing Hazel as much as her balance. Potent milkshakes indeed.

Theo’s wince became a nostalgic smile as Hazel swore she had the glass that she’d been rattling around like she was trying to summon her mom instead of keeping her upstairs while she crept up to bed to sleep off those milkshakes. If it hadn’t been for the coast stand she might’ve made it, the same way she had when she’d first learned to ride her bike. There’d been wobbles then, tears from him when Hazel had finally found her balance and raced away from him. He wasn’t so sure she’d have been able to do that after whatever she’d drunk, it would’ve been another trip to the hospital for a broken wrist, the night ending with Freyja’s fiery lecture (maybe literally) over the dangers of underaged drinking – and his holding onto her as they both cried out their fears that they might’ve lost their daughter.

As a parent those worries sank deep, their teeth sharpening when things happened that you couldn’t prevent. He didn’t have to play concerned professional tonight over Hazel’s inebriation, but he could play a concerned enough dad to fill the glass of water for her and bestow his wisdom over how to avoid the after effects of the milkshakes come morning. Theo hummed lightly, watching as she pocketed the tablets at least – as much of a victory as he suspected he’d get for now. ”Yes, dad, I’ll make sure I take them both,” he coached, vaguely amused. Chances were that Hazel would forget they were there, although come morning, she might desperately be pawing them out, trying to chase away the headache that’d hit when they – at his suggestion – made sure she was up bright and early, maybe with Bo’s screeching help.

He settled into a chair across the table from her, returning Hazel’s narrow eyed look with one of mild concern, any amusement that had remained bleeding away as Hazel took her time answering. She’d never lied to them before, not in any major way, and at least the majority of the minor ones they’d immediately seen straight through – even though mind reading wasn’t one of Freyja’s psychic abilities. A slow sigh slipped out of him as Hazel admitted that she’d gone from the Grill to a party at the Salvatore school, without telling the two of them where she was going. ”You should’ve called to tell us where you were going, Hazelnut. We might’ve said yes.” Although that was likely a lie. The two of them had reason to be protective and Freyja likely wouldn’t have let Hazel within a thousand yards of a party where alcohol was likely to be passed around.

Dark brows rose, his fingers tapping lightly on the table as he studied his daughter. His lips quirking at the corners when Hazel groaned. The kiddo knew she was busted, her only hope was that it had only been by one of her parents. Theo grimaced, eyeing his daughter dubiously. If Freyja found out this had happened and he hadn’t opened his mouth he’d be dead – for the second time. If he went straight to bed and told her tonight there’d be warfare, which would likely result in Bo screaming the house down. Rock, hard place, him trapped between, within roasting distance of his wife. ”That you went to the party or that you came home drunk and tried to lie about it?” He raked his teeth over his lower lip. ”Are you going to do this again any time before your thirtieth birthday?” There was only one correct answer to that. A no would have him holding his tongue until he could let the mildest version of what had happened slip out of his mouth in the morning, taking the scalding to avoid Haze getting it instead.

Tagged: HAZEL DAMASCA * Word Count: 772